[Dr. Jones, Dr. Jones, Wake Up Now...]
WHO: Daisya Berry, Yu Kanda, Gregory House
WHAT: Kanda needs surgery!
WHERE: House's house... o_O
WHEN: Middle of the night
( The other Exorcist had better be damn careful where exactly under his leg he was putting that arm. )
WHAT: Kanda needs surgery!
WHERE: House's house... o_O
WHEN: Middle of the night
( The other Exorcist had better be damn careful where exactly under his leg he was putting that arm. )
He pushed the door open wordlessly to allow them to come inside, and said simply, "Kitchen," before closing the door more loudly than was strictly necessary.
Since Daisya had last been here, House had been doing some planning, some stocking, some rearranging. He had a lot more supplies and more than a few new brainstorms. He also had freshly scrawled-upon kitchen walls, and though none of the information he'd put there was attached to names in a way that would be directly compromising to anyone, if he was going to have random people banging on his door asking for medical attention at all hours of the night, he would have to come up with a way to cover up his impromptu white board in short order.
"Sit down," he told the girl, gesturing impatiently with his cane to a chair by the kitchen table. "Tell me where it hurts and exactly what you were doing when the pain started."
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"I was in a fight," Kanda explained. "I put too much momentum in my jump and landed on my leg improperly. In fact, I don't need much of a diagnosis, I already know what's wrong. I tore my medial collateral. I'm just here to see if I'm going to need some kind of surgery or not."
He had not been trying to brag, by any means, in his anatomical knowledge. Kanda had sustained almost every injury imaginable short of severed limbs during his career as an Exorcist. After years and years of doctor after doctor telling you exactly why you can't leave the hospital after only a couple of hours in intensive care, you tended to pick up a few things.
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Charming. He didn't just get a patient with a boring knee injury that he didn't want to treat, he got a self-diagnosing, know-it-all patient who was going to try and tell him how to treat her. His favorite.
He limped around to the far counter and began going through drawers, pulling out syringes, bottles, bandages. "You allergic to any medications? Any family history of osteoarthritis? Degenerative bone disease?" He glanced over at her as he went to the ice chest, retrieving a small ice block, which he wrapped up in a square of cloth.
He caught a look at Daisya in the periphery of his vision as he did, his eyes flitting over him quickly-too brief a scrutiny to notice, but in a moment he took in his posture, the blood stain on his back, the expression on his face. Now that was what made this visit worth his time: Sunshine was looking distinctly less sunny. " We got into a little scuffle with that Noah I told you 'bout... uh, the one who killed me." Interesting. Significant.
Without acknowledging that he'd noticed anything about Daisya at all, House pulled up a chair in front of Lenalee and handed her the impromptu ice pack, "Here, hold that against the inside of your knee. I'm going to give you some codeine for the pain."
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Kanda sighed softly as he took the ice pack and placed it against his knee. It felt a bit better now, the pain was dwindling somewhat now that he wasn't trying to move all over the place at once.
Great. Drugs. That seemed to be every doctor's solution with each visit he made: pump him up with drugs.
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He shifted a bit and sat down next to her, grimacing a bit as his coat pulled at the wound on his back. He was tired, and he wanted to rest, but he had to take care of Kanda first before the idiot wrecked Lenalee's body further.
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This was all starting to just get too damn confusing for him. Well, if anything, at least he no longer seemed too weirded out by it all.
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The only question was how to get whatever it was out.
Drawing a dose of codeine into a syringe and tapping the air bubbles loose, House fixed the girl with the sort of maniacal smile that would have looked very much at home on a mad scientist. "Well, if she's not sure this should be a real adventure," he said, as though he found the prospect of a sudden allergic reaction to be the potential highlight of his evening.
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Didn't mean he could act like her, though, try as he might.
Kanda couldn't help feeling slightly unnerved at the way House looked at him. He was suddenly reminded of being underneath Komui's drill back at Headquarters. Definitely not pleasant memories. Instead, he made a point to glaring in the other direction. "Let's just get this over with," he muttered.
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He gave her the injection IV, so that the effect would be immediate: enough to take the edge off the pain but not so much as to relieve it completely. He still needed her to know what she was feeling, after all.
"All right," he told her, as he limped back across the room to drop the needle into a metal pot that looked a bit like an antique pressure cooker, "get up on the table and lie down on your back. And let Daisya help you, since you've already managed to demonstrate just how graceful you are at moving on your own."
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"Thanks for your help again," he said quietly, and retreated to the chair he'd been in, sinking back into his thoughts.
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Hang on, what the hell was he thinking about!?
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"Here," he said, tossing him his cane as he returned to the table, "hold my metaphor for a minute, would you."
He then turned his attention to the girl. Now that she was lying down, he finally had a really good view of her footwear and thus could immediately cultivate a healthy appreciation for just how…elaborate it was. Great. And there'd probably be objections if he just cut the damn boots off. Well, fine, he could make this work to his advantage too.
Beginning at the topmost fastening, he started to unbuckle and remove the boots. Casting another look at Daisya as he did, he said wickedly, "I'm just gonna undress your girlfriend while you watch. I'm sure you don't mind, right?" All in the service of harvesting information, of course. (Besides, not like you could really tell, what with local trends and all, but she looked like she was about 17, if that: House would only have been interested in dropping sexual innuendos for the shock value of it anyway.)
He dropped one boot unceremoniously to the floor, then the other. And then, delivering a none-too-gentle wake-up call, he leaned in close to the girl and nearly yelled, "Hey! You! Lisa or Linda or whatever your name is! Pay attention! You need to tell me if you feel any discomfort, all right?"
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He rolled his eyes and ran his hands over the girl's bared knees, feeling the contours of the swelling, then bent her legs so that her feet lay flat on the table. He then lifted her injured leg, holding her foot in one hand and, bracing his other palm against her knee, rotated her leg first to one side and then the other, listening for tell-tale clicks. The joint was silent enough--good there.
He placed her foot back on the table again, put one hand on her thigh and the other behind her calf, just below the knee, and pulled. Hmmm. Then, standing beside her, he bent her leg up at the thigh, held her ankle, rotated her knee out, and pushed it down while turning her ankle slightly in. Less than ideal, but always a possible false positive. Finally, he set both her feet back on the table and sat on them (his leg complained slightly; this was usually the kind of thing he'd make one of his lackeys do, but then how often did any of them really have to diagnose torn ligaments--might as well go to sleep right now). Grasping her leg just below the knee, he pushed slightly forward, and then, shifting his grasp, slightly back. Less likely for that one to be false.
Sliding off the table, he moved to where he could get a good look at her eyes, checking to see just how stoned she was. (Regardless, it was more than she should have been, given the dose he'd given her, which made him suspect that a large part of the effect had to be psychosomatic: mild conversion disorder.)
"Made it to the desert tray yet? I'm going to wrap your knee, and you're not going to walk on it until tomorrow," he called down to her deliberately slowly and too loud, over-annunciating his words as though he was talking to a particularly dim child with a speech impediment.
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He also had the feeling that House was suspicious of something, given the glances and such. He twirled the cane absently and looked at the floor.
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Mmmmm.....................fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiish....
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